


and I'm never going to care about my bad reputation

by janie_tangerine



Series: the jaimebrienne spite countdown to season eight [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne is the Best, Dyslexia, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, High School, JUSTICE FOR MELARA 2K19 OR SO FUCKING HELP ME, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Matchmaking, Melara Hetherspoon Will Have Her Revenge On Westeros or so help me, Mutual Pining, Not For Cersei Fans I Warned You, Slut Shaming, Spitefic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eventual crack ship of dreams, hashtag justiceformelara she deserved better, implied that c & j have creepy codependent stuff going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18261383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Melara Hetherspoon's crush on Jaime Lannister means that, on one side, she loses some friends with fairly bad consequences, but on the other, she gains better ones and helps them be happy, and maybe she gets to find some happiness for herself, too.





	and I'm never going to care about my bad reputation

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAND WELCOME TO PART FOURTEEN OF THE SPITEFICCING! to cap off two weeks of all-around spite, I'm presenting you Today's Hot Take, which is:
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> Now, never mind that no one here gets Why Shipping A Thing Means You Don't Love Yourself, but since this fit perfectly with my burning need that I've had since years to write some fic where poor Melara gets something *nice* because the poor girl didn't deserve to die for having a damned crush on Jaime *and* from what I deduced during last fall's anon hate drama fandom likes to ignore that she existed/negate the circumstances of her ending I figured that the two things could go together. So: have a bunch of hs clichés hopefully done well in which Melara Gets Some Justice And Brienne Gets A Damn Friend Of The Female Variety For Once.
> 
> Also: I'm 100% aware that since poor Melara has no POV, was in these books once *and* from C's POV so the only thing I had to go on with was that if C. thinks certain things of her then she most likely was the entire opposite, my characterization is pretty much 99% me and 1% canon but hopefully it's plausible. Also I know that the ages are all over the place but for the purposes of this fic everyone is in the same age range or it was never gonna work xD
> 
> Also: I own zilch, the title is from Joan Jett and I'll saunter back downwards now. Have fun and see you tomorrow with Now It's Time For Brienne To Get Some Angst As Well. ;)

The first time Melara Hetherspoon sees Jaime Lannister at his and Cersei’s sixteenth birthday party, she feels like fainting. It’s not that she hadn’t imagined he wouldn’t be handsome, given that he’s Cersei’s twin and she’s been in her friends circle for ages, but — when she walks into the manor for the first time and he shows up next to her, she feels like lightening just struck her right where she stands. He’s slightly taller than Cersei, with the same thick, luscious golden hair and green eyes, with wide shoulders, lithe muscles and a killer smile that shows pearly white teeth when he grins, and he does it a _lot_ during the party. Melara blushes like a ripe tomato when he introduces himself, and she doesn’t do much for the rest of the time especially given how many people were invited, but she can’t help noticing how he’s very easy to talk to, how _funny_ he is when he makes jokes and how lovely he looks in his silk green shirt that matches Cersei’s gown.

By the time she leaves Lannister manor and all her other friends are gossiping about how large is that house and how _golden_ it is and at how amazing it would be to live there, Melara can only think about Jaime Lannister’s gorgeous smile and eyes and hair and _everything_ , and so what if when that evening she goes to bed she dares dreaming for a moment that he might go to prom with her one day? It’s not as if he goes to _their_ school, after all. It’s harmless, how can it hurt?

She goes to sleep grinning to herself.

He’s the first person that makes her heart beat so fast when just _thinking_ about him.

She doesn’t dare hope he might be the last, after all she doubts she’ll ever see him again, but there’s nothing harmful in a bit of imagination, is it?

— —

Thing is: she’s _wrong_ about ever seeing him again, because he actually transfers to their school not long later. He’s in class with both her and Cersei and Jeyne Farman and Taena Merryweather, and Melara’s grades _kind of_ risk pummeling down for the first two weeks since he’s sitting right across her and just _looking_ at him feels pretty damn distracting, but she does manage to get her shit together enough to just fail one math test before learning to _not_ stare at him too much or too blatantly.

Still: she does stare, a bit, and she can’t help noticing that while Cersei has a lot of friends, he tends to either stick with her or not go out of his way to talk to people at all. He never seems happy when he hands in his tests, even if he gets good grades — not _top_ , like Cersei, but good. He does play for the football team, but he doesn’t talk to many of the guys in it or so it seems, and he’s always on his own catching up on homework during recess, and while Cersei is always smiles and bright grins and easy gossip, he really — isn’t. He always says hi and goodbye when he comes into class and leaves, but he’s really on his own most of the time, and when he’s not smiling at his teachers or the whole lot of them he looks… lonely? _Sad_?

Maybe it’s not a good idea, it’s _never_ a good idea to get involved with your friends’s siblings, she _knows_ , but to Melara he still looks handsome and gorgeous and the most beautiful person she’s ever seen in her life, and so what if instead of thinking they might go to prom one day she might have indulged in fantasies where he tells her she also looks pretty, too, and that he’ll tell her she has nice freckles, and where they go around school holding hands and maybe catch a couple of movies, and —

Fine.

It’s not _just_ innocent fantasies.

Admittedly, the first time Melara thinks of someone _real_ and not of David Beckham is when she thinks of _him_ a few months later as she touches herself in the darkness of her room and the softness of her bed, and she imagines him kissing her into the mattress, his hands on her hips, his mouth on her neck, his fingers moving through her long dark hair, his lips brushing against her freckles —

Well, she has to admit the moment she’s done, she never came _this_ hard when thinking about David Beckham or any other famous guy she’s ever imagined when touching herself.

Maybe she should admit to herself that whatever _this_ is, she’s in it for the long haul.

— —

Of course, she tells Cersei nothing, mostly because it would be embarrassing as hell — you don’t tell your friend that you’re in love with her _twin brother_ , right?

So, maybe she daydreams a bit, and maybe Taena has to call her back to earth a few more times than usual, and maybe she spends the entirety of Christmas vacations thinking about how beautiful and _nice_ and funny he is and how _lonely_ he seems to feel and look at any given time, but is there anything wrong with it, after all?

Well.

There’s nothing _wrong_ with it.

There’s also nothing wrong in saying hi to him whenever he walks into class and the contrary, and if he always answers looking kind of happy that she is taking the time to do it… well.

Maybe her heartbeat goes wildly out of control the first two times.

But throughout the first half of January it happens all the time, and so maybe she kind of greets him if she sees him walking through the hallways (always on his own), and the one time he asks her if she can lend him a pen because he has nothing she gives him one of the ten she has and tells him that he can keep it, and her fingers don’t stop shaking for ten minutes after.

Thing is: by the time January is over, she’s starting to think, _and what if I told him_? It couldn’t be too bad. It could go all right, couldn’t it? After all, he’s always nice to her. After all, he hasn’t told her off and Cersei hasn’t told her to can it, either, and it looks like he _does_ enjoy the attention.

For a moment, she entertains the thought that he actually _likes her back_ , and she wonders — _would it be so bad to actually spill the truth_? If — if he likes her back, maybe she would get to hold his hand and kiss him and touch his hair and maybe that fantasy she always falls back on where he kisses her into the mattress might come true —

 _Well_.

It’s Valentine’s Day soon, isn’t it?

Maybe — maybe she could make him a nice card. Maybe she could make it as pretty as possible and put effort in it. Maybe he’d like it. Maybe he wouldn’t say no.

 _Maybe_ —

That afternoon, Melara says she’s not feeling too great and she’ll go home so she can skip Taena’s study group — she likes it, of course she does, but now that she had the idea, well, she has to put it into practice or she’ll burst and tell someone and she doesn’t really want to share, not when it’s been _her_ thing until now.

So, she goes to a stationery shop, finds the proper material and spends the entire afternoon hand-making the card — she makes it green and white because she has a feeling it’s his favorite color, he always wears it, with a white heart in the middle and four smaller ones outside, she writes her message in her best cursive inside it, and _maybe_ she sprinkles it with glitter. Eventually, she decides that it looks pretty enough — she puts it inside an envelope and hides it in her desk’s drawer.

— —

She leaves it there until Valentine’s Day, then brings it to school, carefully kept in the middle of one of her books so it doesn’t bend. _Some_ part of her whispers that maybe she should wait until they’re alone and not do it in front of everyone else — it’s not even that he might say no, which she _has_ taken into account, but he just doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d like if someone asked him such a thing in public, given how reserved he is beyond usual basic interactions. So she waits until recess and he goes to get something in his locker, and since the hallway is empty and she sees no one in sight, she decides it’s the right time.

“Jaime?” She asks, and he turns towards her as he slams something quickly inside the locker, obviously not expecting her to be there.

“Melara,” he replies. “Can I help you…?”

“Uhm.” She’s blushing, she _knows_ she is, so she just unclenches her arms, opening the book she had been carrying, and taking the envelope from within. “Obviously, if you aren’t interested no hard feelings, but — happy Valentine’s Day?” She asks, her courage suddenly failing a bit as she hands him the card.

For a moment he looks _extremely_ surprised, and maybe flattered, but then he glances at his right and at his back, looking — _worried_?

He takes it quickly, stuffing it in his backpack.

“Hey,” he says, obviously sounding embarrassed, “I — I’m flattered, and I’ll read it as soon as possible, but — I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.”

He closes the door and about runs off the hallway.

Well.

That went — weird.

It didn’t go _bad_ , she figures. Just… weird. She’d have expected a no at worst, but — she doesn’t know what to make of this, and she doesn’t know what to make of the fact that he doesn’t come back to class after recess.

She also thinks that Cersei was glancing at her _weirdly_ in the last three hours of class, but maybe she’s being things.

Well.

He didn’t say he _wouldn’t_ read it, and he didn’t say _no_ , even if it was weird… so it couldn’t have gone too badly now, right?

— —

For the next three days, though, he blatantly avoids her.

She figures that it’s a no, and while she feels heartbroken over it, _fine_ , she figures that she should just take it and live with it, but it’s — strange? Why didn’t he just tell her no when she confessed? Maybe he didn’t want to make her feel bad, but — this behavior is just outright confusing.

She also notices that Cersei doesn’t talk to her unless prompted, which is _weird_ , too, she usually does… but maybe she’s just having a few bad days. They’ve been friends since high school started, Melara figures she would tell her if there was a problem.

Then, she goes back to school on Monday.

To find that her own locker is ruined and covered in signs reading _whore_ in the worst bad American comedy flick tradition.

 _What the hell_ —

She opens it with shaking hands when she realizes that the lock was broken.

And she finds an envelope inside.

 _What the fuck_ —

She opens it at once and —

Oh.

 _Oh_.

This summer, when they went to Jeyne’s family’s vacation house on the shore, they had drunk a bit one night, and they took pictures of the four of them naked while fake-posing — her, Cersei, Taena and Jeyne, but she immediately deleted the ones she had on her phone the next morning and everyone else said they had, too.

Except that now she’s seeing _every single copy of the ones that were on Cersei’s phone_.

Fuck. _Fuck_. There are fairly telling shots of her breasts, one that shows the freckles on her hips, and fuck, one where she had her hand in between her legs because at some point they were fooling around and it _happened_ , and —

But wait. Cersei had some fifteen pictures. These are at least _thirty_.

She moves to the last one she remembered was on Cersei’s phone.

And then realizes that in the bunch are also the ones on _Taena_ ’s phone.

Oh, _fuck._ So neither of them actually deleted them? But _why_ —

“Hetherspoon!” Someone calls from behind her — who’s that, Ronnet Connington? Probably. “Seems like you’re very free with showing the goods to your friends, you think I might have a look, too?”

Melara drops the pictures and slaps him in the face.

“Oh, feisty,” he says, “are you like that with everyone? Because it’s a bit rich given that you’re that easy to take your clothes off.”

“Fuck you,” Melara says, grabbing the pictures from the ground, slamming the locker closed and heading for her classroom. She stuffs them into her backpack, figuring that coming inside holding them won’t be a good idea, and —

The moment she walks inside the room, _everyone_ starts leering — everyone but Jaime, who is sitting at the first desk, has a face as white as a sheet and is _not_ looking at her.

Cersei is, though, and — she’s _smiling_?

What the —

“Look at her,” Taena says, “seems like your true nature came out finally?”

Melara, who has _never_ even gone beyond kissing the neighbor’s son on the beach once when she was thirteen, when _all_ three of them have spent their fare share of time sharing gossip about _all_ of the ten boyfriends they had in between the three of them, and wasn’t Melara maybe a bit jealous when they did, but she had figured it’d be her turn at some point… feels like the ground has just opened under her feet. Weren’t they _friends_?

“You know that I’ve never —” She whispers, feeling like she’ll cry at any given moment.

“Come on,” Taena says, “you _were_ quick enough to take off that shirt, this summer. Not that anyone knows that it’s not from some guy you might or might not have screwed.”

“But _why_?” She blurts, feeling tears come to her eyes, and then Cersei moves in front of Taena and smiles at her in a frankly chilling way, the corners of her mouth curling upward but not showing her teeth, and her voice goes so low it’s barely audible —

“My dear,” she whispers, “I hope for you this is the _last_ time you assume you can tell just _anyone_ that you want to fuck them.”

Wait, _why_ —

What —

Is it about —

“Is it because of that card?” Melara whispers, feeling like she’s just been thrown a bunch of cold water on her head. “I didn’t mean anything wrong by it, I —”

“You didn’t _mean_ ,” she replies, “but no one said you were allowed. See to aim at your level next time, how about it?”

Then she winks and goes back to sit on her desk.

Jeyne is sitting somewhere else today, and Melara goes to her place on her own —

Just to find out that someone wrote that _whore_ all over the surface of her desk in red. In indelible Sharpie.

She tries to not burst out crying in public because that’s the last thing she wants.

It lasts until third period, when at the umpteenth whisper she bursts out in tears and the teacher excuses her, but the moment she runs into Connington on the way to the bathroom he asks her if she’s down to give him a blowjob, she has a mouth large enough for it.

She locks herself in the first stall she sees and cries her eyes out until she has nothing left to weep anymore, and then she thinks about Jaime’s mortified face as she walked into that room, and she wonders _what the fuck is those two’s problem_ , and then she realizes that with her A-levels next year, there’s no fucking way she’ll manage to change schools at this point, and so she’s stuck here for another year and a half.

With all of them.

Melara never thought she’d get how those girls in those American shows felt when someone came up and decided to ruin their reputation, but she has a feeling she _will_.

Very soon.

— —

By the time Friday rolls by, she’s this close to break down in screams during class or something — she’s found notes asking for sexual favors on her desk throughout the week, she personally scrubbed her desk clean but it was defaced again the next day, Cersei, Taena and Jeyne have been snickering at her back all along, Jaime still won’t look at her in the face and she regretted showing up for PA in a crop top _very_ , very much, so she’s stuck to long sleeves for now and hates every second of it when before she _didn’t care_ and no one ever cared.

At lunchtime, she’s sitting in the cafeteria on her own, trying to get through her food as quickly as possible… and of course that utterly fails, because that group of arses from the grade above hers suddenly shows up next to the table.

“Melara?” Edmund Ambrose asks, and she glares at him.

“What do you want?” She snaps.

“Oh, what, you’re playing hard to get now? Sounds fun, especially given —”

“I see you aren’t done being an arse to people even years later, huh?”

 _What_ —

Melara turns to her left, where someone else has just spoken, and —

Oh.

She’s never actually talked to Brienne Tarth in her entire life, mostly because other than being a grade below hers (even if she’s the tallest person in this school) she spends most of her time around the school’s rugby team and doesn’t really have a circle of friends or anything of the kind and she doesn’t go out of her way to talk to people. Cersei and Taena always used to joke that it’s because with the horrid looks she has she’s better off punching guys and do something useful for the school, but Melara kind of always thought that it was cool how _she_ was the reason their team actually always wins when it’s all guys other than her.

But now here she is, dropping her tray in front of hers and glaring at Edmund, Hyle Hunt, Ben Bushy and the others in that group.

“Come on,” Hyle says, “it was a long time ago —”

“Yeah, and I see you’re harassing her because what, you want sexual favors? Get lost already. I couldn’t punch you in the face knowing what I was doing _then_ , I could now. I’m not saying it twice.”

For a moment, Melara thinks they’ll argue.

But a moment later, they scram.

“What — thanks,” she says as Brienne sits down in front of her. “But — what did just happen?”

Brienne snorts, opening her water bottle. “See,” she says, “the first year, they all tried to ask me out. I was suspicious, because as you can see my looks are hardly a winning match, so I dug around a bit and turns out that they made a bet about who could make me fall for it. Obviously, it included asking me out on a date _and_ taking my blasted v-card, and I reacted very badly… outside school grounds, which is why all three of them ended up spitting four teeth in between them and they never had the guts to actually tell their parents who did it or why.”

“What the _hell_ ,” Melara replies at once, “but — that’s horrible?”

“Yeah, well, they’re doing the same to you, just on a larger scale,” Brienne shrugs, “because after _that_ one episode people realized that I was going to hit back and it would have hurt. Also, they can hardly tell _me_ that I’m easy, given that people have to _pretend_ to like me.”

“Well, thanks,” Melara says. “I — I appreciated it. I mean, it won’t stop them, I guess, but at least _someone_ hasn’t been a jerk about this entire situation yet.”

“Please,” Brienne tells her, “I was done with their bullshit when it was about me but I — really hate seeing it happen to others. But… what did you even _do_ to end up in this mess? If I can ask, of course.”

“Come on,” Melara snorts, “none of my friends has called since this happened and this last week has been shitty, at least you give a damn. Anyway, I gave Jaime Lannister a Valentine’s card.”

“… That was _it_?” Brienne asks, sounding incredulous.

“Admittedly… it was weird. Like, he’s always been nice to me and right back, so I thought I might… because I _do_ like him, you know. Well. I did. I don’t know anymore. But — he seemed troubled when he took it, and then _that_ happened even if he didn’t tell me yes or no, and Cersei pretty much implied I misstepped by… hitting on her brother, I guess. Those pictures that are floating around, she and Taena took them while we were drunk last summer, but —”

“Typical,” Brienne interrupts her.

“ _Typical_?”

“Come on, she obviously got pissed off that you hit on him and she’s taking revenge, which says nothing good about either her or _him_ because he could have told her not to. Then again, not to be _that_ person and I don’t know _him_ , but I’ve seen enough of her to be sure you’re better off without.”

“As in?”

Brienne shrugs. “I tend to draw the line at people who in PA tell me that my presence in the girls’s bathroom is an insult to good taste and I should just go to the guys’s since I spend most of my time with them anyway.”

“… Did she?”

“Once, yes. That was before everyone realized I was, like, an _asset_ to the team. Then they stopped. But I know what people think about me and it’s nothing nice. Which is why I don’t talk to them outside the team. But I had a feeling you could use someone terrifying others into leaving you alone.”

Melara can’t help it — she wipes a couple of tears from her eyes, feeling like she’s going to burst into tears again. “I could have,” she admits. “And — I’m — fuck, I feel like such an idiot for not having realized they _could_ do that to me.”

“Cheer up, now you can avoid them.”

Fair point. “Fine,” she says, “that’s true. But still — I mean, I did notice that you always have lunch on your own. If you don’t want to — well. I’m not really having it with others, too.”

Brienne’s fork stops in the middle of the way from her plate to her mouth. She stares at her for a moment, and then she smiles slightly. “I could think about it,” she says. “Beware, you could be the person showing me that not all attractive girls would hate my guts.”

Melara laughs genuinely for the first time since the 14th. “You know what,” she says, “sounds better than most of my prospects right now.”

She goes back to her lunch, but she doesn’t feel _that_ down right now.

Brienne unceremoniously sits next to her on Monday, too, and the day after.

No one tries to bother her at least at lunch time.

— —

Throughout the next week of sharing lunch, she realizes that Brienne is actually pretty damn _cool_. For one, the moment she tells her _everything else_ she’s had to handle thanks to assholes like Hunt or Connington (who turns out, actually humiliated her in public once in primary school and she still is waiting for the moment to get back at him) she can’t help thinking that she has guts of steel for just going ahead with her thing even if everyone else gives her shit for it until they notice that she’s not doing it for everyone else’s amusement. And fine, she obviously knows shit when it comes to fashion or make-up or celebrity gossip (or gossip in general), but she reads a lot and she actually _does_ share a fondness for both romcoms and romance books, so at least Melara _can_ talk to her about the entire list of both books and movies that Cersei, Jeyne and Taena thought were too _lame_ , and when once they agree to go watch _Venom_ together they spend two fairly entertaining hours appreciating Tom Hardy’s ass after declaring that it _was_ absolutely a romcom. They exchange numbers and text quite enough, and when three weeks later Brienne sort of awkwardly tells her that she’s never had a _girl_ friend before but that it’s nicer than she’d have thought…

For a moment she wants to apologize for it because it’s really a travesty that she had to be fifteen to find one, and surely _she_ hadn’t gone out of her way to talk to girls like _her_ previously.

Then she figures Brienne wouldn’t appreciate it. “Well,” she says, “it’s the first time I have a _girl_ friend who hasn’t stabbed me in the back yet, I’ll take it.”

After all, they met Cersei in high school, but she, Jeyne and Taena were friends from _before_ then.

Brienne snorts and says that it seems like they’re even.

Good.

— —

Then Jaime Lannister sits down at their table during lunch in the beginning of week four.

— —

Thing is: Cersei is not in school because her ballet school is bringing a piece to Paris for the entire week, which means that at least Melara was feeling less pressure, but maybe _that_ is why he shows up at their table during lunch next Monday looking like he hasn’t slept for weeks, a three-days stubble on his cheeks and mortified eyes.

“Could — could I sit here a moment?” He asks, holding his tray.

“Why?” Brienne immediately snaps before Melara can say anything just as her heart picks up speed. “You have five seconds to convince me this isn’t some kind of practical joke, given _who_ you’re talking to.”

Lannister glares at her for a moment, then he shakes his head. “Listen,” he says, I just — you can tell me to fuck off after, but I just want to apologize, all right?”

He _does_ sound like he means it — Melara nods at her and Jaime sits down almost gratefully. His hands are shaking slightly as he lowers the tray.

“Well, go ahead,” Brienne says.

He takes a breath, then looks at Melara. “Listen,” he says, “I — I don’t _know_ what the fuck even happened, but you deserve the truth. So I’m just — fuck. This is going to sound terrible whichever way I put it so I’ll just go for it — I tried to avoid it.”

“… You _tried_ ,” Melara says.

“I — shit. You _know_ Cersei.”

“Well, I used to.”

“What you _don’t_ know, is… that she’s… she doesn’t like it when _that_ kind of thing happens.”

“When _people hit on you_?” Brienne snorts.

“Considering that someone else asked me to be their Valentine in _primary school_ , I said no and the day after she broke an arm during PA because _Cersei_ pushed her and no one could prove it, yes, she _kind of doesn’t like it_. That was why I asked my father to put us in separate schools back then but for one he never liked it and other than that, well, let’s just say his idea was sending me to some kind of military academy and it went really badly, so — I had to settle. Anyway, I knew that the moment you asked she’d single you out, which was why I hightailed out of there, and I was going to read that card and get rid of it but I got as far as doing the first one before she caught me with it, and — well. It was cute and I swear I _did_ appreciate it, but it didn’t meet a good end. I told her I wasn’t interested and she should leave you alone, and of course she _didn’t_ , and I had no idea she’d do such a thing, and — I barely even know you but that was unfair and you didn’t deserve it, so — I just wanted to apologize even if it’s going to be worth nothing.”

Melara thinks she has issues with about half of what she heard, but then Brienne beats her to it.

“Listen,” she says, “not that it _didn’t_ sound sincere, but what the fuck do you mean with _she doesn’t like it_? What are you, your own person or her property?”

At that, he looks up at her like he just got punched in the gut. “And you’re asking me because you _know_ me or what? I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Well, we’re friends and I was here, and I don’t know you but how the _hell_ is any of that _her_ problem?”

His green eyes turn slightly colder for a moment. “Tarth,” he grits between his teeth, “not to tell you to shut the fuck up and mind your business, but given that if any _woman_ talks to me she somehow ends up like our common acquaintance _her_ or like that girl in primary school and that most men around here don’t talk to me either because they decided I’m a snobbish know it all who only passes because his father pays the school generous donations, and that’s actually kind of true because while my grades are shit for reasons beyond my control _he_ certainly doesn’t want to acknowledge it… excuse me if I’m trying to do damage control here.”

“By not talking to anyone because of _your sister_?”

“It’s better for anyone involved since if I try it those people usually end up _changing schools_. And before you ask, no, my father won’t hear anyone saying either of us might _have issues_ and she’s not really the kind of person you want to live with when she's angry with you. Anyway, that was everything I had to say. I really didn’t want any of this to happen, and I’ll just leave if —”

“Wait,” Melara says, surprising herself before anyone else. “You… don’t seem to relish your situation.”

He snorts. “I _don’t_. Do you think I enjoy keeping to myself and avoiding anyone just because Cersei has fucking issues that no one will deal with, except that everyone thinks that since we’re twins it has to be _me_? I’d like friends. I also don’t want any of them to regret having talked to me in the first place, too.”

Thing is: he looks _genuinely_ sad about it. And he also looks like he lost sleep over it. Melara looks at Brienne, who has momentarily lost her aggressiveness and does look mildly concerned, too.

She swallows. “Well, I don’t know about _her_ ,” she says, “but I don’t think it’s a risk with me. I mean, I think I’m a social pariah at this point.”

“Please,” Brienne says, “when was I _not_ one? And if she has a problem with me, I think I can tell her to fuck off without a problem.”

“Wait, you mean that —”

“If you want to be friends with _us_ ,” she says, “and let’s just forget about the Valentine’s thing, I _did_ get you aren’t interested like that, I think it’s no problem.”

“I agree,” Brienne says, “if you don’t do anything that might make me assume you’re playing a practical joke on the two of us.”

Jaime moves his eyes towards Brienne, _staring_ , and then his voice drops and —

“Tarth, I’ve come here _now_ because I was fucking terrified of what was going to happen if I tried to apologize when Cersei could be around to hear it, the last thing I want is pulling a _practical joke_ on either of you.”

She _stares_ back, then shrugs. “Fine,” she says, “test passed. For now.”

Jaime rolls his eyes and says something like, _imagine if I didn’t_ , but he doesn’t leave, and while they aren’t too chatty altogether, it’s not a bad lunch.

He does grin tiredly at the both of them when he leaves.

At that point Brienne does look back at her… worriedly.

“I was wondering,” she says, “if he wasn’t lying… shouldn’t that be kind of concerning?”

Melara shrugs. “Well, it’s true that at her birthday party _he_ didn’t have any friends for himself. And in class he’s always on his own and look lonely as hell.”

“Jesus,” Brienne whistles, “now I feel bad for having been like _that_ , but — I guess I have bad experiences with pretty faces.”

“Hey,” she says, “it was appreciated. And you can make it up to him tomorrow, if he comes back.”

“Deal,” Brienne says.

Thing is: he _does_ come back.

The next day.

And the day after.

— —

After a week, which is about the time Cersei is supposed to be away, Melara knows a few things for sure.

One: he was dead serious. Actually, all the times he came to sit with them he looked kind of scared shitless they would change their mind, and he’s only assumed it was fine the last day.

Two: if he gets talking, he’s as witty and funny as he was at that birthday party, even if way more self-deprecating.

Three: he _really_ is sorry that the Valentine’s card inadvertently ruined her reputation.

Four: he definitely wants to be friends with the both of them but he’s not interested _that_ way, and Melara puts her soul at peace when she realizes it. One day her heart will stop beating faster whenever he comes closer, she knows she just has to wait.

Five: the whole deal with military school is that apparently he has some issues with reading that his father never bothered to deal with and they wouldn’t do that _there_ either, while here they don’t care how terrible his homework is on account of his father’s donation money.

“That’s complete —” Brienne starts, outraged, when she hears it. “I mean, if you’ve got a problem he _should_ look into it, what’s wrong with him?”

“Wait until you meet my brother,” Jaime snorts. “A lot of things, anyway. Whatever, I mean, I do try but it’s useless.”

Brienne looks at the time. “You know what,” she says, “I don’t have practice today. Neither are you. We’re going to the library and figuring it out. Hey, do you want to come?”

“I wish,” she says, “I have the A-levels advanced math class. Couldn’t drop out of _that_. But we can text each other later?”

“Done deal,” Brienne grins back at her. They both head off to the library later while Melara goes for her class.

She doesn’t think about it until Brienne calls her later that evening, sounding angry as _hell_.

“You can’t even imagine,” she says, “now I understand a lot of things.”

“Why, what’s his problem?”

“Dyslexia, that’s his problem, and like — with the money they have he could have gotten tutoring years ago but _no_ , he’s been bullshitting it until now, I can believe his grades are what they are.”

“So what did you do?”

“We looked up online how to do something about it and I guess we’ll do it again next week, but it’s just — he about _cried_ when he realizes it was something people have and not some kind of proof that _he_ was the problem. What the fuck,” she says, and Melara can picture her shaking her head in distaste. “I mean, his father is like _that_ , his sister is _worse_ , I’ll never presume that awfully rich people have it automatically easier.”

Melara does laugh at that — it _is_ kind of true. “Well, at least now he knows.”

“At least that,” Brienne agrees, “but — this is just fucking worrying all around. Especially if Cersei _really_ does give your treatment to anyone who even talks to him beyond the basics.”

Melara shudders at the thought. “At this point, I have a feeling she does. By the way, what are we doing when she inevitably finds out that we’re friendly?”

Brienne half-laughs in a frankly terrifying way. “I’m handling it,” she says.

Melara, against all odds, actually _feels very much better_ at the thought.

— —

Next Monday, Cersei is back in her usual desk, Melara throws away the usual inappropriate notes on her desk and at lunch she goes straight to sit with Brienne. She can see Cersei, Taena and Jeyne snickering at them and she definitely hears something about her having found a _worthy friend_ finally, because of course the two social outcasts should. Brienne merely shrugs and eats her lunch.

Jaime shows up not long later. He goes to get his food, and Melara takes care to notice what the hell is going on here. Cersei is actually watching him like a hawk, a look on her face that she doesn’t like and Brienne obviously agrees with her. For a moment, after he takes the tray away, he looks at the table where he used to go sit on his own, then at the two of them, and for a second he does seem terrified, but then Brienne half-smiles and nods at him. Melara has no idea what it is about but does the same a moment later, and then she _sees_ him clearly mutter _fuck this all_ before slamming his tray down near theirs and sitting on the free side of the table.

“Welcome back,” Melara says, eating her food.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and _of course_ a moment later Cersei stands up and stalks towards them.

“Look here,” she says, “has she promised you a few handjobs if you sit with them?”

Jaime _literally_ flinches at hearing it. Melara merely rolls her eyes — at this point, according to Cersei’s count, she should have jerked off every single guy in this school. “No,” he says, “I just apologized to her for how _shitty_ you were to her last week and decided that it’s nice company, and I don’t care for sitting on my own all the damned time. You done?”

At _that_ , Cersei’s little smirk disappears.

“You _apologized_ ,” she says. “You know we don’t —”

“Oh, bite me,” he snaps. “This fucking idiotic policy from both you and Father that _since our fucking surname is what it is we never apologize to anyone_ is bullshit and you know it.” His voice drops so that the entire place doesn’t hear. “She’s done nothing fucking wrong except giving me a card and you know it, and it’s not — it’s not right that you did it, and it’s not right that she has to live for a year with that bullshit because she, what, dared talk to me. I don’t _know_ shit.”

Melara is kind of waiting for Cersei to glare at her.

Too bad that when she does she feels like fucking fainting, because if that time in class was bad, _this_ is —

“And I see you can’t hear warnings when you’re given some, _can you_ ,” she whispers, and wait, she’s entirely ignoring that Brienne is even there —

“And I’m just remembering all the reasons why I only ever talk to the guys in the team,” Brienne says a moment later, and wow, she sounds _really_ pissed off. “You really are getting off on power trips or what? Because I think you overstayed your welcome, if there ever was one.”

“I wasn’t talking to _you_ ,” Cersei scowls. “Just go back to your lunch, how about _that_?”

“No,” Brienne says. “First thing, stop talking to me like I’m three and to _them_ like they’re five, we’re all way past that. Second thing, he can sit wherever he likes. Third thing, if you’re thinking about how to fuck up my reputation right now, don’t bother — no one has naked pictures of me, my teammates don’t relish the idea of losing the best scorer on the team and no one would ever believe _I_ gave the entire school a blowjob given that half of it has seen fit to inform me that I’m absolutely _unfuckable_ , as far as they’re concerned. Fourth thing, if you really get power trips from tormenting people or making sure they do what you want them to, I’d advise talking to a specialist before it’s too late for someone to explain you that this is _not_ how you treat others. Fifth thing, I _am_ the highest scorer on the rugby team. Now will you let the three of us eat in peace or not?”

“I really don’t think,” Cersei replies, “that you want to pick _this_ one fight, Tarth.”

Brienne _laughs_. “I don’t think you get it. You can’t do _anything_ to me that hasn’t happened already. People have humiliated me in public since elementary school, I’ve had guys asking me out on _bets_ , I’ve heard any single possible insult concerning my looks that anyone could imagine and not counting the rugby team — which, as stated, _will_ be on my side regardless of what happens —, I don’t talk to anyone that’s not the two of them. What do you want to do, throw pig’s blood on me during prom? Good luck convincing me to come in the first place. I’ll pick any damn fight with _you_ because there’s no way you can win it with your usual methods, so if you don’t have anything of import to say will you _leave them the fuck alone already_?”

They glare at each other for a minute or so and Melara is honestly impressed at how Brienne doesn’t even flinch.

Then Cersei storms back to her own table, Brienne mutters something about _guessing what, it’s always like this_.

Then Melara glances Jaime’s way and —

Oh. First, he seems awed that Cersei actually backs off, but then he sends Brienne a _look_ that Brienne doesn’t even notice that’s a good part admiration, a consistent part impressed with a sprinkle of awe and he’s overall staring at her like she just gave him ten birthday presents.

She’s never seen him look at someone like _that_ —

Wait a moment.

Oh, Melara realizes. _Oh_.

 _Of course he’s not into me,_ she thinks. _If_ she _’s his type, of course he’d have never said yes to that card now, would he?_

For a moment, it _hurts_ to put two and two together.

But then Brienne raises her head, stares at the both of them and shrugs.

“Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of knight in shining armor,” she says, obviously uncomfortable. “If you’re my friends it’s the damn least I could do.”

Then she goes back to her food, but Melara does notice that she had blushed a bit when Jaime looked her way.

Huh.

 _Might it be that_ —?

She resolves to keep her eyes open.

— —

Two months pass and Melara has kept her eyes open, and — well. It would take being blind — or maybe _Cersei_ , how fun — to see that those two are _definitely_ pining. They have their library dates twice per week and in a month his grades improve enough that his mood skyrockets and he pays dinner out for the both of them in celebration, and when Brienne asks her if _maybe_ she could help her with make-up since the restaurant it’s kind of fancy, Melara has a feeling she wouldn’t ask if it was _anyone else_ inviting them. Then of course she helps her and gives her a few tips, and the moment she shows up in her usual get-up but with light eyeshadow and mascara, she can _see_ from how Jaime gapes at her in the good way that he’s definitely into her. They both start attending her games, too, and he makes enough noise for half of their area wherever they’re sitting, and thing is — even if it’s obvious that they’re absolutely wrapped up in each other, they don’t actually make her feel like a third wheel and the only thing _they_ have that she’s not included into is the tutoring, but admittedly she’d have no idea where to even start helping him, so it’s not like she _minds_.

By month two, she figures that maybe it’s time she makes sure, and so she asks Brienne one day when they’re hanging out at the local coffee shop and Jaime is at his brother’s school play.

Brienne sighs and looks down at her tea. “Maybe I am,” she admits, “but — I mean, no way he’s into me. And I’ve had enough issues with fessing up to guys who didn’t deserve it. Hyle Hunt was the last time I ever went there. I’m fine being friends with him, really, it’s not like _he_ would ask me to prom anyway.”

Melara, who has gathered _what kind of issues_ Brienne has, doesn’t push it.

Then she also asks _him_ one day before Brienne’s last game for the season starts.

He sighs, in the exact same way she did. “Hell, I’m obvious, am I not?” He says, sounding sad.

“What if you are?”

He shakes his head. “Well, no point in even trying. Cersei would ruin her life anyway, she deserves way better than my mess and my shining clusterfuck of a family. I’ll just deal with it. But thanks for noticing,” he smiles. “I’m — I hope it doesn’t make things —”

“Hey,” she grins, “I was over you three months ago. It’s fine, really.”

“I know it’s not,” he says, “I notice what’s under your desk these days.”

“I’m adjusted,” she shrugs. “And I guess I’ll have to wait for uni for the right guy to come along. It’s fine, really.”

“Yeah, and I’m just fucking sorry she ever decided _you_ deserved that bullshit, really.”

She gives him a light shove in the shoulder.

And then she decides that fuck it, they’re her _friends_ first and foremost and they deserve to be happy, and if _she_ isn’t part of that equation for him, it doesn’t mean she has to be a jealous asshole or that she should sabotage it or take some sadistic form of joy in seeing them pine and not do something about it, not when since he joined the group _he_ has become way more open and doesn’t look anymore like he’ll risk dropping dead if he dares having human interactions with other people, while she’s nowhere half as closed off as she was when she first sat down in front of her. And as far as she’s concerned… she doesn’t feel like performing to a standard whenever she’s around them, they haven’t made her feel left out once and they’ve been better friends to her than just about anyone she ever met.

They _do_ deserve to be happy, as far as she's concerned.

And _maybe_ she can do something about that.

“Well,” she says, “actually, in all confidence… when I was talking to her a few days ago, she might have let slip that if _you_ happened to invite her to prom, she’d be down with it.”

“… But she said she doesn’t want to go!”

“She _says_ that in front of you and anyone else in public,” Melara corrects him, “because she thinks no one would ever want her as a partner and she feels embarrassed about it. But if _you_ asked? She totally _would_.”

“I will presume you’re _not_ shitting me,” Jaime tells her.

“Of course _not_ , why would I?” She smiles back.

“Huh,” he mutters. “I’ll — I’ll think about it, I guess.”

 _Score one_ , Melara grins, and then waits for their team to come inside the stadium.

She might have a question for Brienne, after.

— —

“You know,” she tells her that weekend — Brienne is at her place because she mentioned that she _never_ did a sleepover in her life and Melara decided that it had to be rectified, and so they’re catching up on _Stranger Things_ while Brienne staunchly refuses to let Melara do her nails —, “Jaime kind of told me something.”

“As in?” She asks, obviously pretending to not care.

“That he doesn’t really care for going to prom, but he’d be more than glad to go with _you_.”

Brienne, who at least has the sense to _not_ assume Melara is making fun of her, merely raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me if I find it highly improbable.”

“You shouldn’t,” she says. “I mean, I asked because he seems to _really_ only have eyes for you if you care to look and he pretty much admitted it straight-up but he’s never going to ask because you know, what would Cersei do. What, is it _that_ impossible to imagine?”

Brienne snorts. “Melara, come on. You’ve seen me.”

“Yeah, and when you showed up with make up that time he invited us over at the restaurant he was looking at you like I _wish_ he looked at me. Also he _knows_ you and you have your weekly tutoring dates and so on and really, he _does_ like you that much. And honestly, fine, maybe you’re not his sister when it comes to looks, but — he didn’t like _me_ ,” she shrugs. “And I suppose that you’d think that in comparison I’d be more desirable now, would you?”

“Well, _yes_ , but —”

“Then rejoice, you ran into a guy who’s _not_ into my type. And you haven’t denied that you _would_ go to prom with him, have you?”

Brienne, realizing she’s been busted, gives her a half-nod, then looks down at her hands. “Maybe I’d like it,” she admits, “but — you _know_. I can’t go through it again if he says no. I _can’t_.”

Melara might not have gotten it until recently. But she thinks she does. “But he won’t. And do you really think I’d do it to either of you considering how we became friends in the first place?”

At _that_ , Brienne does smile genuinely, if not _completely_.

“Maybe I’ll think about it,” she concedes.

“Well,” Melara says, “prom is next Friday. You might want to do it on Monday unless it’s too late.”

Brienne groans and says that she’ll consider, and is _gossiping_ such a fundamental part of sleepovers or _what_ , and Melara grins back and tells her that of course they are.

By the time the next episode is over, she _has_ convinced Brienne to let her do her nails.

— —

The next Monday, she sees Brienne hover on their classroom’s door as recess starts. She obviously was hoping most people would leave, but since it’s close to finals time people are revising, and Jaime is, too.

For a moment Melara thinks that she’ll ask him to come out of the room, but Cersei is in the corner glaring at her and so it would be useless.

“Hey,” she tells Jaime, “can you come here a moment? I — need to ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says immediately, standing up so fast he almost knocks the chair down.

Melara decides they deserve each other. He goes out into the hallway and she stands up as well, figuring that she deserves to at least witness how it goes down, and patience if Cersei ends up not far from her — at this point she barely notices her anymore.

“So,” Jaime says, “I kind of had something to ask you, too, but maybe you should go first.”

“Oh, no, you go first,” Brienne stammers, her face going red all over again. He smirks slightly.

“Maybe we should go together,” he says, “at worst you can just scream at me after. On three?”

“Fine,” Brienne shrugs, and then he counts, and —

“Do you want to come to prom with me?” He asks.

“Would you maybe want to come to prom with me?” She asks at the same time, and then they _stare_ at each other.

“Wait,” Jaime says, “ _she_ said you wanted to but _couldn’t ask_.” Then he turns towards Melara, who doesn’t even pretend to look embarrassed about this.

“Well, _she_ told me that _you_ wouldn’t ask because you were worried about, huh —”

“Guys,” she interrupts them, “you were pining, you _both_ told me separately you liked each other, I figured I’d speed things up for you it was the last thing I’d do. So, are you going to fess up already? Because I’m tired of the tension.”

They immediately go back to staring at each other, moving closer. “Huh,” he says, his hands grabbing hers, “you really —”

“Since the restaurant, I think,” Brienne admits, her voice dropping down. “You?”

“Since you got kicked out of the library the second time because you were insulting those specific relatives of mine so loudly Mr. Greyjoy told you to calm the fuck down,” he says, looking at her with such _fondness_ that no one could say he’s faking it. Then again, _she_ is looking at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to her, and honestly, at this point she’s just glad they figured it out. He was never going to look at _her_ like this, Melara knows, so it’s better like this.

“So,” he keeps on, “what’s the answer to that question? I still haven’t heard it.”

“Yes,” Brienne blurts, “and yours?”

“ _Yes_ , did you have any doubts?” And then he puts his hands around her face and drags her forward and kisses her right in the middle of the hallway, and Melara _kind_ of wants to wipe away a stray tear because it was the slow, careful, _nice_ kind of romcom kiss that Brienne deserved, given how many of those things they’ve seen together in the last few months.

Good.

They both deserved it, and she just hopes they make up for lost time at prom or she’ll never let them live it down.

“Wait,” Taena says, from Melara’s side, “you — fucked your reputation up because you _liked_ him and now you made them get together?” She sounds incredulous. “Don’t you have a little self-respect here? Don’t you love yourself _some_?”

Melara, who at this point is fucking _done_ with all of them, decides that she’s also done playing nice, so she stops staring at those two making out and glares back at all three of them.

“So what, if I loved myself I should be here _sabotaging it_? She’s been a better friend to me than any of you ever was and sure as hell if something good came out of this mess is that I’m not seeing any of you anymore, _he_ obviously was never going to like me that way, I’m not such a fucking sad person that I wouldn’t want them to be happy just because he liked _her_ and not me. Do you even hear yourself when you talk? I _love myself_ enough to not be such a sad excuse for a human being that I’d hurt my friends for something I can’t ever have. Or to ruin their reputation because they _dared_ have a crush on someone they shouldn’t, whatever the fuck it means to you. And with this I’m really done,” she snaps, and before any of those three can share more pearls of wisdom she turns on her back and makes to leave, she really doesn’t need to be here any longer —

Just to almost run into someone.

She stops shy of crashing into the guy, looking up at him, and —

Oh. Right. Edmure Tully. He’s in their year but not in the same class, they’re in the same math A-levels class, and now that she thinks about it he’s about the one guy around who _hasn’t_ asked her how long is her blowjob or handjob tally yet, nor asked to be added to it stat. Not the most easygoing person around, but he’s fairly nice from what she’s seen, and he has some really lovely auburn hair and a pair of blue eyes slightly darker than Brienne’s that really is lovely, up close.

“Hi,” he says, “uhm, sorry if this isn’t a good moment.”

“It’s fine,” she says, “actually it was, but — you heard, I guess. Can I help you with anything?”

“Actually — yes. I mean, feel free to say no and whatnot, if it’s not what you want no hard feelings, but you know we’re in that class, and I’ve kind of thought you were… uhm, that doesn’t feel like the right word. Er, let’s just say my sister has been telling me that I should have asked you out for coffee since way before that whole pictures mess happened.”

 _Wait, what_?

“… Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re really pretty and from what I saw I really would have liked to, and then that happened and I thought you might say no because, well, you’d take it as someone making fun of you and whatnot. Also I thought you were into _him_ , so.” He nods towards Jaime, who’s admittedly too busy finding Brienne’s tongue with his own to pay any attention to them. “Well, it was obvious, so… I wouldn’t have asked someone who liked someone else. But since it seems like it’s, er, not the case for either of you… I don’t know if I can presume to ask the prom question, but maybe you’d like to get out for coffee sometimes?”

Melara feels completely out of her depth for a moment. “Wait, you don’t mind _that_ , uh, the pictures thing?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t even looked at them. And it’s not like there’s anything bad in _the pictures_ , the problem is that people shared them without asking you first.”

“And what if I told you that I’ve never actually been with anyone and it was pictures taken on the beach by friends and not a boyfriend?”

He goes red in the face. “That’s not — I mean, you could have been with the entire school and I still would have asked you out, I don’t care. Also, it was… really nice of you to do _that_ for them. I like to think _that_ would matter more than whoever you have or haven’t had sex with.”

Considering that his hands are holding to his jacket and he looks really nervous, she _really_ doubts that he’s faking it. And while the last thing she was expecting today was someone asking _her_ out —

 _Well_.

He’s very good-looking admittedly, with that bright shade of auburn and those baby blues, and he’s never been anything but nice and proper since they shared that class together, and he looks interested, and fine, maybe she’s never looked at him like _that_ , but she also hasn’t let herself look at _anyone_ since that mess happened.

Maybe —

Maybe it’s time she gets over it.

“I’ll do you one better,” she says. “We can get coffee tomorrow and so on. I totally could do with getting to know each other. But nothing says you can’t ask the prom question.”

“Wait, you _would_ —?”

“From what I’m seeing?” She grins. “I think I really would.”

“So —” He shakes his head, looking like he didn’t expect it to go so well, “what if tomorrow after class we get that coffee?”

“Oh, sure. _They_ can have their study date, I can have a regular one. Seems perfect.”

“Oh — okay. Great. Then see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” she says, and then she decides, _what the hell_ , and leans forward and kisses him on the cheek before waving at him and going back to class.

Jaime and Brienne are _still_ making out in front of the door, Cersei looks livid along with Taena and Jeyne and Melara has an invitation to prom _and_ a date for tomorrow.

Well then.

She has a feeling that if this is _not_ loving yourself, then she doesn’t know what she is.

 

 

End.


End file.
